Waiting for God (1990–1994): Season 2, Episode 5 - Tell the Truth - full transcript

— (Gasps)
— What on earth's the matter?

— Wind.
— Oh.

Been at me all night.

It must be yesterday's dead dog stew.

Aah... Oh, that's better.

— Must have done a U—turn.
— Thank God for that.

Well, better an empty house than a bad tenant.

Just don't do your evicting in here.

"Dear Miss Trent"?
How do they know my name?

— Probably Looked at the envelope.
— Oh.

"Dear Miss Trent, you have probably already
won £2,000." Pig's bum, I have.



Hey, hey!

Look, nobody gets anything for nothing, Tom.

If they had said, "Dear Miss Trent, the likelihood
of a decrepit old prune like you

"winning more than a gnat's knickers
is about ten million to one,"

well, then, I might have read further.

I don't suppose they aim their campaigns
at just one particularly perverse old bat.

Nasty little people.

In fact, I think we might see
the sun freeze over

long before we see that kind of honesty in
advertising.

Honesty in anything, come to that.

Honesty is the great lost art of our time.

— What on earth does that mean?
— I don't know, but it sounded quite good.

— Ha.
— It would be nice if we were all honest.

It wouldn't. It'd be bloody disastrous.



This delicate ramshackle shed
of our existence

is only saved
from toppling over the cliff of life

by the strands and web of deceit
which anchor it to the crumbling lime.

— Would you care to repeat that?
— No.

I should hope not. It's only Monday

and her metaphors
are already wildly out of control.

All I'm saying is we are brought up on lies
and dishonesty from the beginning.

What is the first thing that a child hears?
"Oh, what a beautiful baby",

when it probably looks like a diseased tomato.

I was a beautiful baby.

Yes, well, I'm sure they told you that.

Every little boy is told that he's going to grow
up to be something amazing.

He spends the rest of his life wondering why
he's a tedious bit of gormless cannon—fodder

picking his nose with a shovel.

Man is the only species that tells fibs.
It's such a pity.

We should all be honest
about everything all the time.

Ooh, it'd never catch on.

From now on, I'm going to be honest
in everything I say.

It might catch on,
and the world will be a better place,

all thanks to Tom Ballard,
explorer and philosopher.

And well—known fruit loop.

You may mock,

but just remember
mighty oaks come from little crab apples.

Bloody old fool.

Now...

— Oh, my God...
— (Jane) Hello?

Morning, Diana.

Good...morning...Diana.

# On the good ship lollipop

# It's a quick trip to the candy shop #

What are you doing?

I may not be a very important person

but I would like to be acknowledged as at least
existing when I come into a room.

Jane, when I am reading my private mail
in my own private cell,

I do not expect to be assailed
by tap—dancing ding—a—lings.

— What do you want?
— I'm just doing my rounds.

— Oh.
— Ooh, you've got a letter.

Yes. From my niece, the Clapham Strangler,
the one who wants to kill me.

— She thinks you're the bee's knees.
— Well, she wants to get married.

Oh, so do I.

— Oh, isn't that nice?
— Oh, Jane, do stop being so wet.

— Morning, Jane.
— Morning, Tom.

Diana's niece is getting married.

— That's my news.
— The lovely Sarah? How wonderful.

Well, she's bringing her intended down here.

Oh, mustn't it be wonderful
to have an intended?

(Sings Wedding March)

Do you, Jane, take this man?
Oh, yes, I do! I do! I do!

Oh, shut up, woman!

Oh, I'm sorry. I just get carried away when
there's romance in the air.

— You'll never get married, Jane.
— What?

— Not a chance.
— Tom?

— We must be honest at all times.
— No.

I mean, if ever there was a spinster,
it's you, Jane.

Shut up.

No man in his right mind would even notice you,
let alone take a second look.

Is that true, Diana?

No, Jane, it certainly is not true.

Tom is just playing some
rather silly psychological party game.

I am being honest.

Jane, you are never going to get
within 100 miles of Harvey Bains.

— Aren't I?
— Not a chance.

You must realise
that in the great swimming pool of life,

Harvey Bains
is permanently at the shallow end.

Harvey is a man of great depth.

He has about as much depth
as a puddle in a drought.

His ideal woman is something
that looks good with his car,

something that will prop up
his well—justified lack of self—esteem.

A glamorised, sexy doxy. That's what he wants.

A beauty queen.

A beauty queen?

He won't be interested in someone who looks
like a leftover from a jumble sale.

(Sobs)

I want you to help me check out
this chappie my niece is so keen on

but I want you to keep your mouth shut, none
of this honesty claptrap.

It's very hard to waver once you're
on the path to righteousness.

One wrong word and you'll get
my stick up your path to righteousness.

— (Horn beeps)
— Look, here they come.

And just... just button your lip.

Hello, Auntie.

Don't call me Auntie, you revolting child.

— Hello, Tom.
— Hello.

— You're looking well.
— I had a terrible night with my wind.

Ooh!

Diana, Tom. I'd like you
to meet my fiancé, Sam Parry.

How do you do, Miss Trent? I've heard so much
about you. You're Sarah's great hero.

She always was a silly child.

— Hello, Tom.
— Right. Come on. Let's all go and eat.

You'll find the food quite revolting.
Today it's cat stew and eyeball soup.

So, what do you do, Sam?

— You mean what are my prospects?
— No, no, no. Not at all.

Sarah's chosen you. That's fine by me.

Apart from her occasional attempts
to kill me,

I've always found her
to be of very sound judgment,

especially since she gave up
running the knocking shops.

What?

Diana thought running a model agency was akin
to running a brothel.

Same business.
You've got it, sell it, you've still got it.

That's enough.
I now have three beauty parlours.

Oh... Still pandering to women's weaknesses
and insecurities.

She's a sad, twisted old woman.
Take no notice of her.

— A sackful of broken crockery.
— Thank you, Tom.

Dead in everything but body.

That's not like you, Tom.
You're usually such a nice man.

I'm still a nice man.
I just happen to be a nice, honest man.

You'll be a nice, honest dead man
if you don't watch it.

— So, what do you do, Sam?
— Well, I'm in promotions and property.

Wheeling and dealing, shaving the percentage.

Commodities, franchises, bit of spec stuff.

In and out of risk properties. Well, you know
what they say, if it moves, buy, buy, buy.

If it stops, sell, sell, sell.

Isn't he clever?

Clever? I think he's an absolute...

(Cries out in pain)

— Are you all right?
— Fine, fine.

just a spot of wind backing up the hard way.

— Oh.
— Oh, my God!

Jane! She's been in an accident.

No, she is a beauty queen.

Hi, Harvey.

— Hi.
— Yes, hi.

It's such a privilege to be here
on this glorious night

in this wonderful place.

Jane, this is the dining room at lunchtime.

Oh, you're so funny!

— What's the matter with you?
— My hobbies are travel and world peace.

— What?
— For my talent piece,

I'd like to sing my song.

# Somewhere over the rainbow #

— Jane! Jane!
— I love animals

and curling up with a good book.

I'm a real homebody.

Have you gone right out of your mind?

I—I really want to work with small children.

What's the matter with your face?
Has someone hit you with a hedgehog?

You're absolutely hideous.

Yes, well, I'll see you in my office.

I'm... I'm so sorry.
She's a spinster, you know.

Well done, Tom.

I don't think I could have perpetrated
such a miserably humiliating scene

even on one of my best days.

So much for honesty.

Oh. Well, you can't make an omelet
without cracking a few heads.

I must try it out on Marion.

What—ho, Geoffrey.
Lovely to see you. Hello, Marion.

— Is there a crisis, Dad?
— Life is a crisis, Geoffrey,

but I have the solution.

Follow me.

Did you bring my pills?
I feel a tumour coming on.

— Geoffrey, Marion.
— Hello, hello.

Tom's daughter—in—law.
Bites the heads off hamsters.

— Sarah said you were a great joker.
— I wasn't joking.

Oh.

So what is this wonderful scheme
you're going to tell me about?

— Sam's had a brilliant idea.
— Oh.

— Oh, Jane.
— Yes, Harvey?

— What can I say, Jane?
— Whatever you like, Harvey.

I know that, Jane.

I mean, what should I say when my trusted
lieutenant goes totally bananas?

Maybe you should ask me why I did it.

— I'll work out what I want to ask, Jane.
— Sorry, Harvey.

— Why did you do it, Jane?
— Cos you like beauty queens.

— Who told you that?
— Tom did.

Yes, well, my relationship
with Miss Huddersfield Tractors 1973

has got nothing to do with Tom or you.

What's that got to do
with your grotesque charade?

I was trying to be a beauty queen.

— You...
— Are you all right?

You? You wanted to be a beauty queen?

Oh, Jane, that's very funny.

What were you going to be?
Miss Short And Dumpy?

Or Miss Back End Of A Bus?

All these years,
I thought you had no sense of humour,

but you're the funniest thing on fat legs.

That's a relief. You were putting on
a little show to cheer up the residents.

That's wonderful. Absolutely
the right spirit. just one thing.

— What?
— Never do it again.

The idea of you as a beauty queen could bring
on a wave of hysteria—induced cardiac arrests.

We don't want the dining room
cluttered up with rattlers and gurglers, do we?

No, Harvey.

Cook always gets so moody
when people snuff it at meal times.

— Yes, Harvey.
— So no more jokes about beauty queens, OK?

And you tell Tom to keep his nose
out of my love life, OK?

I'll see you later.

Beauty queen. Oh, that's very funny, Jane.

(Wails)

— Franchises?
— Mm, franchises.

— Same businesses all over the country.
— Like McDonalds and things?

Right. Sam's going to sell franchises
in my beauty parlours.

— Where do I come into this?
— We want you to run a franchise.

Goodness.
And I thought I was almost dead.

And as Brutus says in Julius Caesar,

"Cassius,
there is no terror in your threats,

"for I am armed so strong in honesty
that they pass me by as the idle wind."

A quotation that is doubly relevant to me today

as not only does it support honesty,

but the references to idle wind
are somewhat pertinent as well.

And, as Juvenal says in his Satires,

"Probitas laudatur et alget."

— Dad?
— Honesty is praised and starves.

— Dad?
— So from now on, I have decided

that honesty will starve no longer.

We are all going to be honest
as the world is long.

(Chuckles) Being honest,
I have to admit, Geoffrey,

that I have been a failure as a father.

— I wouldn't say that, Dad. Look at me.
— I am, Geoffrey.

Had I been a competent father, I would have
taught you perceptions of human worth

that would have made you run 10,000 leagues

rather than many this pill—popping packet of
razor blades you call your wife.

Geoffrey! Where are my pills?

Could you get to the point, Dad?
Marion's about to jump out of her basket.

To be honest and to go forward,

I must first love myself.

But we are members of the same family,
the same whole.

Therefore, you are part of me,
so to love myself, I must love you.

Geoffrey, I love you.

— And Marion, I love you.
— Oh! Get him off! Get him off!

Don't you wish to be honest, Marion?

— Yes, I do.
— Marvellous. What do you want to say?

I wish you were dead. Goodbye.

Well, that's a bit depressing.

— Well, it's been great, Di. Really super.
— Lots of fun.

If you pop the check in the post,
we'll get things under way.

Check? I'm sorry, what check?

For the franchise purchase. Five to
everyone else, but three to you. Family.

— 300?
— Wouldn't that be nice, eh?

— So, if you could bung us the five grand.
— I thought you just said three.

For the franchise.
But then there's the promo budget

and initial leasing fee and equipment.

— Does Sarah know about this?
— Don't worry. I won't say a word.

We'll call it a little pressie from us to her.

Mum's the word, eh?

Ciao, Di.

I'm a bit shocked.

— My daughter—in—law wishes me dead.
— She always has.

Yes, I know, but before,
I always thought she was sort of joking

but she honestly said
she wished me dead.

I told you honesty was a bad idea.

You remove the polite dishonesty
from society

and you cop it full in the mush every time.

Yes, but it's not nice to be so disliked.

— What can I do to win her over?
— Shoot yourself?

Thank you, Diana.

I always know I can rely on you
to cut the cobblers

and come up with something totally cynical.

So, what do you think
of Sarah and Sam's little idea?

— Five thousand?
— Yes.

— Running a beauty parlour?
— Yes.

— You?
— Yes.

— Daftest idea I've ever heard of.
— Yes.

Sarah's chap is a con man.

— Well, be honest with her.
— She's in love with him.

What am I supposed to do?
Say, "Hello, Sarah,

"your fiancé's a little sharpie who should be
shoved down the lavvy forthwith"?

— Yes.
— And break her heart?

— Well, he'll only do it later on.
— We don't know that.

Women see good in the strangest people.

I dare say Eva Braun thought Hitler
was just a misguided dog—lover.

I don't suppose that nice Mrs. Genghis Khan

was hanging around
just for the shopping opportunities.

No, they might be gloriously happy.
I can't interfere.

But you can't run a beauty parlour either.

No, I suppose I couldn't.

I suppose to run a place like that, I would need
to identify with the customers.

I'd have to be virtually braindead.

I'd have to be Marion.

By golly. I think I've got it.

I think I've got it.

— Tn/ penicillin.
— No, no, no.

A brilliant idea. Can't you see
the light bulb flashing round my head?

I must dash. Got to get to London.

Don't talk to Sam yet.
God, Tom. You're brilliant.

Take the train, Tom. The stagecoach
doesn't stop here any more.

Oh, God...

Last Hope House.

— (Jane) Diana?
— Oh. Here comes Miss Final Gasp.

Hello, Jane.

Oh, dear. I was just thinking about you.

Oh, that's er...nice.

Yes. What do you want? I'm knackered.

I just came to say goodbye.

— Goodbye.
— That is goodbye forever.

I know that I am going to regret this.

All right, Jane. Why goodbye forever?

Tom was right.

Tom's never right.
He can't say hello and get it right.

Tom was right about me and Harvey.

I'll never find the Holy Grail here at Bayview.

Harvey Bains is not the Holy Grail, Jane.
He's not even a mildly revered tooth mug.

You only say that because
you've not experienced real passion.

Yes, I have.

I have consumed and been consumed.

I have made the sea boil up the beach.

I have known passion
that would kill a donkey at 500 yards.

So have I.

When?

Well, admittedly, as a younger woman,

my romantic life
was confined to rather stilted letters

between me and my Canadian pen pal,
Mr. Chigachgook.

Mr. Chigachgook?

— He was an Eskimo.
— Oh.

An Inuit.

No, he was very bright.

Oh, God almighty...

But somehow I never felt the spark
of real romance.

So I returned the bone
that he'd sent me for my nose

and I gave up my chance of a place
in the midnight sun

and that's when it happened.

— What?
— Oh, the explosion

of my volcano of passion.

— Well, when? Where?
— Here, of course.

Oh, it was like the conversion
on the road to Damascus.

As I plodded up the drive with wean/ heart,

I looked up and there he was.

Harvey Bains.
He had a sort of aura around him.

He uses a garlic deodorant.

Harvey turned towards me,

his Roman nose
in noble profile in the setting sun.

He smiled. I swooned.

He caught me in his arms.

He smiled as he looked down at me
with laughing eyes.

Oh... And then, his succulent lips parted.

And in his manly voice,
he uttered those first wonderful words...

"Keep off the grass."

Oh! And my heart burst into a thousand stars.

Ooh, Barbara Cartland, eat your heart out.

But it would appear
my fickle heart has led me astray.

It was not to be.
My great passion is to go unrequited.

And the man at whose feet
I have prostrated myself

prefers a woman
who sits on tractors in her underwear.

Oh, God.

If only we could collide with another planet
and get it all over with.

Hello, Diana.

What can I do for you, or have you come
for just a bit of grievous bodily amusement?

You and I haven't always seen eye to eye.

We never see eye to eye.
Let's be honest here.

Oh, no, please, don't let's be honest.

Being honest is a very bad idea.
It causes nothing but pain.

— To whom?
— Well, Jane, for a start.

Jane? What's wrong with her?
She's in fine form.

Didn't you see her splendid charade at lunch?

The beauty queen bit? It was very funny.

That, you dismal little earwig, was her
last—ditch attempt to gain your attention.

— Oh, really?
— Yes.

For reasons best known to herself,
she has developed a fixation about you.

Yes, well, you know, these things
tend to happen to us...special guys.

(Groans) Tn/ not to make me sick.

I'm sorry, Diana.

Well, she has found that there is
no response from your good self.

— She's not really my type.
— She has no staple through her navel?

Can we get to the point, please, Diana?

She is very upset. She is leaving...forever.

Leaving? Oh, my God.

Precisely. Without her to run this place,
your appalling inadequacies will be revealed.

Oh, my God, what am I gonna do?

If I were you, Harvey, I would lie through my
teeth as I have never lied before.

— You want to what, Tom?
— I want to be honest with you.

That's a fairly novel idea round here.

Let's give it a try.

Fire away.

You are a bent little weasel
who couldn't lie straight in his own bed.

Sounds fair enough to me.

— Really?
— Oh, yes. I've been called far worse.

And it doesn't worn/ you?

No, not at all.

You see, Tom...

I can be honest too.

I'm honest enough to admit I don't have a
single scruple in my entire body

and that I have only two interests in life —
making money...and marrying Sarah.

— So you do love her?
— Oh, totally and utterly.

She's everything I need in my life.

She's good and lovely and she'll no doubt
save me from my unpleasant self.

So I need to make as much
as I possibly can now

before I turn into a soggy but happy
bourgeois marshmallow.

So you are open to blackmail?

I'm open to anything underhand and devious.

So if I threatened to tell Sarah
what a cad you really are

in trying to con Diana out of £5,000,

you might get worried?

I would.

— I'd also break your legs.
— Ah.

But I would get worried.

You know something, Sam?
I find your brand of honesty almost refreshing.

Hmm. I think we'd better talk turkey.

Gobble—gobble—gobble.

I don't know what to say.
This is so generous of you.

Marion always has wanted a beauty parlour.

— And now she's got one.
— But how did you pay for the franchise?

I didn't. I got it by good, honest blackmail.

Well, we're overwhelmed.
And Marion has something to say to you.

— (Squeaks)
— Marion?

(Strained) Thank you.

Sony Bit deaf. What did you say?

— Thank you.
— Oh, that's all right.

Um... Wasn't too painful, was it?

I'm...sorry I said I wished you were dead.

That's all right. Don't overdo it.

First day.
You don't want to exhaust yourself.

Well, we'll be off, Dad. Thanks again.

Kissie, Marion.

— Bit of a cold. Bye.
— Bye, Dad.

Ah, generosity. The most subtle revenge.

The Bible is right. Love your enemies.

It drives them insane.

Look! Despite your chicanery,

Sarah and Sam have invited us to their wedding.

How much are the tickets?

So, how's your wind?

— My wind is my business.
— Oh. What happened to open honesty?

Oh, well, I don't know. I think perhaps
I'm a bit too old to start a new crusade.

I might just read a book instead.

Oh, I see.
So, having messed up several lives

as some sort of intellectual experiment,

you got bored, you're moving on
leaving the bodies lying around.

— Oh, dear. Is that what I've done?
— Mm.

(Jane) Hello!

Here comes the main victim
of your callousness.

Hello! And how are we all?

Dead.

Jane? Jane.
I have something to say to you.

I was only joking when I said I thought you
would be the eternal wallflower.

— I was thinking of someone else. I...
— It's all right, Tom.

It's all for the best.
It brought things to a head.

— Harvey has opened his heart to me.
— How revolting.

He's explained about his tendency

to have relationships
with, um...brainless women.

They provide an intellectual challenge?

It all goes back to his mother.
She was very dominating

and she forced him into an early marriage with
a completely unsuitable concert pianist

who is a Catholic and has tuberculosis
and is in a clinic in Switzerland.

So, of course, divorce is out of the question.

So, until he's free from her,

he said he feels he can't afford
to fall for a real woman,

so he has to dally in shallow relationships

with naked women who like farming equipment.

So, what are you going to do?
Buy a combine harvester?

I'm going to wait for him.

I'm going to see him through this time of trial

and then... Well, who knows?

See you later.

The filthy, rotten, low—down, lying bounder.

Jane is happy, Tom.

Where did he get a stony like that from?

I can't imagine.

You! You wicked old woman!

That's me.

Give me the gin.

I give up, I really do.

To hell with honesty. Here's
to the devious. Long may they reign.

I'll drink to that.